Looking for Trubel
by TRBL247
Summary: This is an AU (or alternate universe) tale. In my version, Bonaparte lives and wreaks havoc on Portland with the involuntary help of Grimm, Theresa "Trubel" Rubel. Bonaparte uses every trick in his book to transform Trubel into his his mindless weapon. Nick and the gang search for Trubel, but if they find her, will they be too late? Will she be dead or will she be someone else?
1. Chapter 1

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye" - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Nick turned towards the man lying on the floor of his loft. The man broke in with twenty others with orders to kill. That was why Nick was so ready to take the ax he wielded and plunge it through the guy's skull.

Nick didn't hesitate, but it didn't matter. The man on the ground picked up a gun from one of the fallen soldiers and shot Nick in the chest. Four times was enough to stop Nick's heart, and the magic stick couldn't bring people back the dead. It was over. Nick fell to the ground.

He was dead.

Adalind was terrified that something was going to happen to Nick. And if something did happen to him, it would be her fault.

She was panicked, but she already had Diana warn Nick, and there wasn't anything else she could do.

She could have asked Diana to kill the Black Claw agents, but what kind of mother would that make her?

She went to bed with Diana and stayed with her the whole night to settle her own nerves and to also keep Diana from playing with her dolls.

Trubel was down in the tunnel with Eve or Juliette or something. No one had any idea idea what or who she was anymore.

"Why haven't they come down here yet?" Trubel said anxiously.

"Nick held them off well. It probably won't be long. They'll come," Eve said, trying to pull herself together. "I should have helped Nick."

Was she feeling guilt? That was weird...

Trubel didn't care anymore. She was a strange combination of heartbroken and pissed off. "He's not dead!" she shouted in Eve's face.

"You know better than to lie to yourself, Trubel. Denying the truth could hurt our friends. _I'm sorry about Nick_ ," Eve responded in a sincere and languished way.

"When have _you_ ever felt sorry for anything you've done?!" Trubel yelled, getting to her feet. "I can't do this!" Trubel started climbing the ladder.

"Trubel, don't!" Eve begged. "Please." Eve slowly and unsteadily rose to her feet, too.

Trubel could tell that Eve truly wanted her to stay.

"I don't know who you are, but I'm not going to let you stop me," Trubel began. "I'm not going to let Nick die alone. We are his friends, and he deserves more than that. I'm going." Trubel looked down at the worried face of someone who looked very familiar. "I wish I had said this before when I took Josh home..." Trubel's voice cracked, "Goodbye, Juliette."

Trubel hurried her way up the ladder. The adrenaline was making her shake from head to toe. She was terrified that she would be too late, and as she ran, she felt like she was running out of time.

She climbed the second ladder after a sprint through the small hallway, and slowed her breathing before stealthily and quietly opening the door to the loft.

She saw a man, his back towards her, laughing while looking at something that Trubel didn't want to believe. Something she couldn't believe. Nick was on the ground in a pool of blood. Trubel could hear and see from the distance that he wasn't breathing. Trubel slammed the loft door shut behind her while simultaneously snarling, "You son of a bitch!"

The man turned towards her, but she was on him so he hardly the chance to woge. She ripped the gun out of his hand, threw it across the room, and pulled his face really close to hers so he could see the murderous expression in her black, Grimm eyes. She pulled a knife out of her boot and stabbed him in the heart without hesitating. "I'll see you in hell," she growled. She threw him away from her and sent him flying with a kick to the chest. She wanted it to hurt. His death would have taken so much longer if Trubel didn't think that there was a way to help Nick. She wasn't giving up. She wouldn't.

She ran over to Nick's side. He didn't have a pulse.

"Nick," she said hysterically and started CPR. "Nick, I cannot lose you, too."

She was begging as she forced his heart to beat, "Nick, you are not going to do this to me." She gave Nick two breaths and kept pumping his heart. "Dammit, Nick!" she screamed. "It wasn't supposed to be you. You weren't suppose to die!"

She was sobbing, but she didn't stop the chest compressions. "Please. Nick, I _need_ you. Everyone needs you. Everyone has _always_ needed you." She gave him more breaths. "Nick, you are my only family. Wake the hell up!"

Trubel heard the elevator coming up, but she made no effort to move. She didn't care who it was. She could die with Nick, and she wouldn't mind. The elevator door opened, but Trubel didn't even turn to look at who it was. She gave Nick a few more breaths and continued the chest compressions.

"This is heartbreaking," she heard someone say in a french accent. It had to be Bonaparte.

"Nick, come on!" she whispered to the body, still sobbing.

"Why don't you give it up, Theresa? It's over." That was Renard's voice. That pissed her off.

"Why don't you kill yourself, Zauber-bastard?!" Trubel yelled.

"Hmmmm," Bonaparte mused. "You wouldn't happen to know where Nick's book of Grimm ancestry is, would you, dear?"

Trubel ignored him and continued CPR.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she knew everything Nick used to. She's a Grimm. There isn't anything he wouldn't tell her," Renard said.

"That's right, she is a Grimm," Bonaparte said, remembering. He had almost forgotten. He had been so focused on Burkhardt... "Fantastic! I hope we don't have to kill this one. She's young and more than capable from what I've seen. She could be quite useful to us." Trubel shuddered at Bonaparte's words.

Another elevator full of people arrived.

Trubel gave Nick more breaths of oxygen, and thought about the kind of information Bonaparte could want. Information about the books, Monroe, Hank, and the others... the stick...

The stick! Trubel didn't know the extent to which it healed people, but maybe it could save Nick! But what if Bonaparte got a hold of it? It didn't matter to Trubel. She and Nick could get it back together. She had to find a way to get to the tunnel and grab it from where Nick had showed her it was hidden. She didn't know that Nick had it in his pocket.

"Ah, welcome to Burkhardt's home," Bonaparte cheerfully greeted the full elevator. "I should have killed Burkhardt when I first had the chance - but, I am still missing some valuable information." Bonaparte nodded his head in Trubel's direction, but Trubel didn't see because she wouldn't look away from her task of attempting to revive Nick.

"I want her alive," he said.

The five men rushed over towards the young Grimm, who still hadn't looked over to see them.

One of them wrapped their arms around Trubel's torso and ripped her from the dead Grimm on the ground.

"No! No, get off!" Trubel tried to struggle, but two other men grabbed each one of her arms. The remaining two stood in front of the Grimm who wanted nothing more but to save the person that she loved most.

The two men in front watched the Grimm with amused expressions. One even started laughing while the three dragged the despairing Grimm closer to the elevator despite her efforts to fight it.

"Stop!" she shouted as she squirmed under the grips of three adult, Wesen men who were still having a difficult time restraining her.

"If this weren't so damn funny, I might actually feel bad for it," one of the men whispered.

"I hope Bonaparte kills it," said another.

"It'll die painfully and end up in hell with it's pathetic Grimm friend," laughed one of the guys standing in front of her.

Throughout their comments, Trubel had been in hysterics, begging them to stop - stop talking, stop dragging her away- and everyone else in the room thought it was hilarious.

Trubel pulled herself together and kicked the guy in front of her right where it would hurt the most. She brought her chin to her chest and slammed her head back as hard as she could. She heard the sickening snap of the man's nose as it broke - he let go of her torso. The other man from in front of her, the one not doubled over in pain, swung at her. Trubel yanked her arm and ducked in a way that put the guy holding her right arm in the way of the other man's fist. It connected on the guy's face, and he let go of her arm. Trubel punched the guy holding her left arm and jumped on his back. She grabbed his head and twisted until she heard a snap and he fell limp on the ground. She jumped off of the dead man's back before he fell and kicked the guy who tried to punch her. She kicked him in the stomach and then grabbed his shaggy Hundjager fur to slam his face into the counter top. He was definitely unconscious or dead.

The guy who she had kicked first was starting to recover. So were the guys that were head butted and punched. Trubel ran over to the man on the ground who was punched by the unconscious guy and delivered a good, solid kick to the face. He was out too, if not dead. Trubel pulled her machete and cut off the guy's head, but was then tackled by the man who had grabbed her torso. She fell on her back, the machete went flying, but she was able to maneuver so the man who tackled her was on the bottom. She didn't need her machete. She wrapped her hands around his throat and smiled right in his face as she watched him gasp for air. It took too long. She grabbed his head and started slamming it on the ground until the man stopped resisting. She was about to get up and run back to Nick, but as soon as she partially stood she felt a searing, stabbing pain that hurt more than anything she had felt in her entire life. At first, it felt like she was on fire, but she was able to stumble a few feet towards Nick before falling hard to her knees and letting out a scream of pain that she had tried to hold back. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe anymore, either. She glanced at a woged Bonaparte who looked like he was choking an invisible person. He was smiling as he watched her grab her throat, trying to remove the invisible hands.

"You are not going to avoid what I have planned for you. I want you." He let Trubel suffocate for a while longer. Trubel was losing focus, but even still noticed Renard talking on the phone and then putting the phone in his pocket. Trubel figured he must have been calling for backup because the elevator came back up with four more people.

Blood started dripping out of Trubel's eyes, so Bonaparte let her go. She fell backwards on the floor, gasping for air; she didn't have the strength to do anything else.

The four men grabbed her off the floor and placed her in a kneeling position. They started zip tying her hands together behind her back.

Trubel couldn't focus. Her vision was still distorted from the lack of oxygen. She was hardly able to hold her head up. With all her strength, she looked at Bonaparte and choked out, "Please." She gasped for more air. "I will do anything you want. Just let me save him."

Bonaparte walked over to the begging Grimm and got low so he could see her. He used his hand to tilt Trubel's chin up so he could look at her right in the eyes. "Let Burkhardt's death be a reminder to do what I say."

Tears streamed down Trubel's face quietly. One of the men holding her up put a rag in front of her face. It was chloroform.

Trubel couldn't fight it if she wanted to, and she didn't want to.

Trubel's vision went blurry, again. She heard Bonaparte's voice somewhere in the distance.

"Get her out of here."

If anyone had been near him, they would have heard a strange sound. An unidentifiable sound of very slight movement and internal repairs. Surprisingly, it worked quickly. Maybe because he was a Grimm.

Nick gasped for air on the ground and opened his eyes. He felt weak, like he had just been shot four times - because he had. He got to his knees, slowly and painfully, and despite the pain, he was aware, aware of everything. He heard voices outside. Voices he recognized, voices he hated. He, by some miracle, stumbled to the window (over blood, bullets, and bodies) and opened the steel shutter in time to see the unconscious Trubel get thrown into Bonaparte's trunk.

His voice came out in a whisper of complete despair and disbelief.

"No."

It shouldn't have worked. The stick didn't bring people back from the dead, and Nick had died. But Trubel had been there for him, like they had always been there for each other. She gave him artificial heartbeats, artificial breaths, and artificial life long enough for the stick to repair him. Initially, his breaths were slow and shallow as were this heartbeats, but they were enough to keep him on the path to recovery while Trubel wasn't able to continue CPR.

Nick knew that he was alive because of the girl that was just kidnapped by Black Claw. Trubel didn't know that she was the reason that Nick was alive, or that he was alive at all. She also had no idea that Nick would stop at nothing to find her.

There were two cars parked outside of Nick's house. One was an expensive black sedan, the other was a large, black van with paneled windows.

One of the four guys had the unconscious, young Grimm slung over his shoulder. He basically threw her in the trunk of the sedan.

"We're taking her to the compound," Bonaparte announced. "Drive behind us just in case the rebel decides to wake up and kick out the tail lights," he commanded.

"Yes, sir," all four men said at once.

One of them spoke up, "She should be out for a while. But, I tied her feet together just in case."

"Perfect. Let's go," Bonaparte said.

However, they weren't in the hurry that they should have been. Nick watched as they drove away, unfortunately too far away to read the license plates.

"I promise I'm going to find you."

Eve was struggling to keep from crying. Every emotion she had ignored while she was the old Eve seemed to be catching up with her. She gasped in darkness hoping that the others would come back in time to help Trubel. She disorientedly stumbled, trying to decide which direction to go in order to find the closest group.

"Eve?" a confused voice came from the darkness. It was Hank's. He ran over to Eve. "Wu and I found a way out. Where's Trubel?" Hank started looking around. So did Wu when he got to Hank's side.

"Guy's? You back there?" Monroe and Rosalee emerged from the darkness. Monroe's face was slightly red like he had just been crying. Rosalee, however, was the image of the perfect poker face.

"We're over here!" Wu yelled.

Monroe and Rosalee walked over to the group, holding each other's hands. Wu looked at Monroe's face. "Are you guys okay?"

"We're great," Monroe answered too quickly. "We found a way out."

Suddenly, the tunnels erupted with yelling. Hank had been glaring at Eve. He finally grabbed her shoulders and shook her. " _Where is Trubel?_!" he yelled. Monroe and Rosalee exchanged a concerned look. "Where _is_ she?"

"I don't know. She went back up there," Eve responded.

Hank asked, "Didn't you try to stop her?" while everyone said, "What?" incredulously and simultaneously.

"I couldn't. She wouldn't." Eve said emotionally which unsettled everyone.

Hank started climbing the ladder.

"Hank!" Wu shouted.

Without stopping, Hank said, "I have to know!" Like Trubel, he couldn't accept that Nick could be dead. He had to know.

"I'm going with him," Wu said to the remaining group before rushing up the ladder after Hank.

Monroe looked at Rosalee with a worried expression.

She smiled at Monroe. "Let's go."

Monroe made a nervous face. He didn't want his pregnant wife to have anything to do with Black Claw.

"I'm coming," she said insistently.

"Okay," Monroe said, knowing she wouldn't give in.

Eve looked at the people around her, fighting tears. "I'm coming, too," she said. "I'm sorry for everything that I did when I was Juliette. I wish I could take it back."

"It wasn't you. You weren't Juliette when you did that. We all understand that." Rosalee comforted.

"I'm still not Juliette," Eve said.

Rosalee looked at her. "We'll see."

Hank had made it to the top and was waiting at the door. Wu ran up behind him and Hank motioned for him to be quiet. He had his gun out, ready to shoot, but he knew he didn't have many shots left. He would have to conserve ammo. Wu pulled his gun out, too. Monroe finally made it up, woged, and nodded to signal for Hank to open the door. The others came quickly and quietly behind them.

Hank pushed on the door, but it was stuck. He didn't know it, but it was Trubel's fault. She had slammed it pretty hard. Hank looked down at the group, wide-eyed. He mouthed, "It's stuck."

Suddenly, the door was yanked open and Hank poised his gun to shoot.

"Hey! Hey! Hank, it's me! Don't shoot!" Nick yelled as he backed up and lifted his hands in surrender.

"Don't listen to him," Wu whispered. "It's a trap!"

Hank carefully stepped off of the ladder and into the loft, still pointing his gun at Nick. "How?" he demanded.

Nick kept one arm still lifted up to show that he wasn't going to attack. With his other arm, he showed the inside of his jacket and pulled out the stick that was buried deep in his pocket.

Hank stared in awe at the piece of wood. "The stick?"

"And Trubel," Nick said. "I think she gave me CPR."

"How do you know?" Wu asked, climbing into the loft. Monroe, Rosalee, and Eve followed.

"I didn't stay conscious. The stick would have kept me awake, so I'm pretty sure I was dead." Nick thought for a moment and added, "Some of my ribs were broken when I woke up. It wasn't broken when I was shot." Nick rolled up his sleeve and smeared his bare arm across his face. He looked down at it, noticing it was a very subtle shade of pink. "Trubel's lipstick," he said quietly to himself.

"Nick..." Monroe hesitated. "Where is she?"

Nick looked up from his arm. His eyes started to fill with water, but he blinked fast and looked up at the ceiling to keep the water from turning into tears. He took a deep breath and looked at the group. "She's gone..." He said, clearly despondent.

"She's dead?" Hank asked in disbelief.

"No," Rosalee said.

Wu walked back behind Nick. He picked up an object. "Isn't this Trubel's?"

Nick turned around and looked at the black knight chess piece. He walked over to Wu and took it from him. He stared at it for a while before answering Hank. "Bonaparte took her. She might be dead... I don't know." He grabbed his face in the way he always did when he was stressed out. He turned away from them and started walking aimlessly around the loft.

"Did you see her?" Monroe asked.

"She was unconscious. I saw Bonaparte's men throw her in a trunk."

"Oh my god..." Monroe said looking sadly at the ground.

Nick put the Black Knight in his pocket and turned to face everyone again. "I have to get her back."

"No, Nick," Hank said. " _We_ have to get her back."

Hank walked over to the corner and picked up Trubel's machete. "Let's do this."

Nick nodded. "Let's do this."

Soon after, Bonaparte and Renard realized that Burkhardt wasn't dead. They couldn't let anyone find out. They were the only two people in the compound that knew, and anyone who left the compound was ordered to never say anything - especially to the Grimm.

Both Renard and Bonaparte sent men of their own to go find Burkhardt. They were told to bring the Grimm in if he was cooperative and to kill him if he wasn't. The crews sent to find him came up empty for the most part, or didn't come back at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Both of the black cars were parked in the compound's garage. Neither the compound or the garage were visible from the outside; it was a great place to hide, to plot, and to keep someone from every being seen again.

The same person who threw the young Grimm in the trunk lifted her out, and not very carefully. He had found out, along with Renard, Bonaparte, and the rest of them, that the young Grimm had killed all five of the men she attacked. He would be happy to see her dead.

He took her out carelessly, bashing her head on the side of the trunk, and slung her over his shoulder once again.

"Blake?" Bonaparte's voice echoed through the garage.

"Yes, sir?" the man holding Trubel asked.

"Put her in a holding cell. I'll deal with her when she wakes up," Bonaparte commanded. "Take Will, Robert, and Al with you, just in case she wakes up prematurely."

"Yes, sir," answered Blake. He wandered off with the other three men.

Bonaparte turned to Renard. It was Renard's first time visiting the compound. "It's time for the grand tour," he said." I'll show you everything there is to know about the compound. You'll be working here soon enough, but for now, just follow me." They walked off.

Blake wandered down the hall, carrying the girl. He was happy that she was light, but he was a Blutbad, a wolf Wesen, so it wouldn't have mattered much if she wasn't.

"What if she had a little accident. Fell down a flight of stairs...?"

"That would be a shame," Blake answered sarcastically, grinning at Will.

Al spoke up. "Bonaparte would kill us. He wants her alive, guys."

"Damn, this sucks," Will said. "You know, a Grimm killed my grandpa."

"What do you think killed my parents, idiot!" Robert yelled from the back of the pack.

"My sister. Dead at the hands of a Grimm. Can you guys beat that?" Al asked.

Robert was pissed. He grabbed the back of Al's shirt and used it to throw him against a wall. "I lost two people!"

"Well, I actually liked my sister! You said you hated your parents!" Al yelled back.

"You really think it makes a difference whether I liked them or not?" Robert asked.

Will walked up to them. "They probably all had it coming. My grandpa? He was a great guy. He didn't deserve to be decapitated! Damn straight!"

Robert and Al both turned on him. "What the hell'd you just say?" Robert shouted. Al pulled his arm back, ready to punch Will.

Blake rolled his eyes, setting the Grimm down on the ground, and grabbed Al's arm before it broke Will's face. "Guys." No one looked at him. "Guys! Enough, alright? It's not a competition!" Al, Robert, and Will glanced at Blake who continued his speech. "We've all lost someone, okay? Because of Grimms." Everyone looked at Trubel. Robert started licking his lips. Blake saw him losing control and put his hand on Robert's chest. "Not, now," he said sternly. "But the day will come where we can do some damage. There's no way she's getting out of here, and there is no way Bonaparte won't want to have a little fun before he gets rid of her." A menacing and sadistic smile flashed across Blake's face. "I promise," he said, and they all started laughing. Blake picked up the unconscious Grimm and continued walking down the hall.

Bonaparte had every intention of showing Renard the whole compound, but he needed something from Renard first.

"This," he said gesturing to the room around him, "is the interrogation room. One of many."

The room was eerie. Like most of the compound, it was lit with fluorescent lighting, which gave it the appearance of a hospital or a creepy horror movie basement. Most everything else was grey, made of either smooth cement or metal. Renard and Bonaparte did, however, walk past rooms that were completely white. Bonaparte said he would use those to talk to his new recruit - meaning Theresa. He said that Renard would find out why, later.

They walked over to the table in the center of the room. Not all interrogation rooms had tables, some just had chairs and others had nothing at all.

"Have a seat," Bonaparte said as he walked around the table, pulling out a chair for Renard and sitting in one, himself. "You aren't in trouble," he assured in a friendly way. "I very much enjoy our partnership. I believe that it is one that will make history." He took Renard's hands when he sat down. He leaned forward. "I want you to tell me everything that you know about Theresa."

"I don't know much," Renard began, trying to remember anything that would be useful. "Burkhardt didn't tell me that she existed, and after I found out she was living with him, I had to discover that she was a Grimm on my own. He didn't want to talk about her." Renard thought back to when Nick and him were teammates and, almost, friends. Nick was dead to him now; it didn't matter what he said about Theresa. "Her name is Theresa Rubel. I did a background check on her after another officer told me that she was a murder suspect in a double homicide." Renard paused.

"That makes sense. Please continue," Bonaparte requested, letting go of Renard's hands.

"Nick was investigating her. He ended up telling everyone that she was a criminology student, so she could come with him on the job and people wouldn't ask questions."

Bonaparte interrupted Renard's reverie. "What did you find when you did a background check?"

"She had been raised by foster parents until she was thirteen, I believe," Renard answered readily. "Her foster parents died, I'm not sure how-"

"Is it possible that she did it?" Bonaparte asked.

"I wouldn't put her above it. She's has no aversion to murder, apparently," Renard said. "She's also been in and out of mental institutions. She was also homeless for a while, and I guess it made her pretty crafty."

"Mental institutions. I can use that. Go on," Bonaparte encouraged.

"There's not much else. I know that she worked for HW."

"Yes, I heard about that. That will make her an efficient weapon in time." Bonaparte smiled to himself.

"If you can get her to do what you want," Renard mentioned, skeptical.

"She lost Burkhardt. They've lived together, killed together. That kind of bond can strengthen a person, but breaking it can destroy them." Bonaparte sighed. "At least, that's what I'm hoping for. She has nothing left to hold onto. She is isolated from her friends and has no family. Who does she have to turn to?" Bonaparte asked.

"No one," guessed Renard.

"Just us," Bonaparte said. "I'm hoping she's smarter than Burkhardt. Doing what we want is in her best interest. It would be a shame, for her, if I discovered I didn't need her."

Renard didn't know what to say. He just listened to Bonaparte outline his ideas one by one.

"But if I could just get her on our side, make her see that there is no way out, I think she would make a great addition to our war. She could be an example to any stubborn Grimms, she could help me find the books!

But even her fighting skills, alone, are enough to make me want to give her a few chances."

Bonaparte stood up. "Let's just hope that she takes them."

Renard stood, as well, and the two of them continued their tour.

Blake and the others had made it to one of the holding cells. It was dark grey, and barely large enough to fit all of them. Blake dropped the Grimm on the ground, and the others grinned when they heard the thud of her head hitting the rock-hard ground.

"Do we keep her tied up?" Al asked.

"Of course we do!" Robert replied in a tone that said, "isn't it obvious? I don't know about you guys, but I want to keep my head."

Suddenly a girl walked down the hallway.

"There you are!" she said.

"Hey, Josie, baby!" Will exclaimed, clearly happy to see her.

"You call me baby one more time, and I'm telling Vinny. I would love to see him beat the hell out of you." She woged into a Balam and bared her teeth. "Though I might save him the trouble, and do it myself."

Will gulped, and Josephine laughed after woging back to human form. The other guys started making fun of Will, so he told them to shut up.

Josie looked past them at the floor of the cell. "This is the dangerous Grimm Bonaparte told me about, huh?"

"Yeah," Blake answered. "How come you're the first to know?"

"I ran into Bonaparte while he was giving Sean Renard his tour. Apparently it's taking longer than expected, so Bonaparte told Vinny and I to go find you guys. He wants the girl to stay unconscious until the tour's done. Because she's so dangerous." Josie rolled her eyes incredulously.

"If you find Bonaparte, tell him we got it covered," Will said.

"Are you sure you can handle it?" Josie asked Will. "Better keep your buddies around. You wouldn't want to lose your head."

The guys laughed at Will, again. He deserved what he got, and he was lucky Josephine didn't do more to him. No one ever got away with doing anything to her. She killed plenty of people and the only thing that people heard her say about it was that it was fun. She was a real piece of work, and Bonaparte loved her for it.

Josie made a disgusted expression. "Doesn't look so dangerous to me," she said eyeing the started walking down the hall and yelled behind her, "What I wouldn't give for five minutes alone with her!"

Then, she was gone.

Time passed. Eventually, Trubel began to resurface. She was on a cold, hard floor, breathing slowly, and unaware of everything else. It took more time for her to open her eyes. The room, for the most part was dark, aside from the fluorescent lights that added to her confusion. She had been at the loft, but now she was here - wherever that was.

She thought for a long time. Her memories were cloudy, but they were coming back. She was with the gang. She had picked Monroe and Rosalee up from the Spice Shop after they hid the Grimm books, and she had killed a few people in the process. Wu had been with her. Together, they went back to the loft, they saw Diana, and then they were under attack. At least, that's what she thought she remembered. It was all so frustratingly fuzzy! She had to keep working through her memories.

Let's see. She and Eve sat together in the tunnel. Was it Eve, or Juliette? She didn't know. She couldn't leave Nick for dead.

 _Nick._

He was dead. That was real, wasn't it?

It was all coming back. She tried to save him, but they stopped her. Then, she stopped them.

And Bonaparte cheated, and she lost.

 _Nick was dead and she was kidnapped by Black Claw._

Trubel sat up quickly. It hurt her head. Was it from the chloroform? She was dizzy and sore, but she couldn't just be a sitting duck.

She tried to move around, but she realized her hands were still zip tied behind her back. And her feet were zip tied together, too. She sat against the wall and wiggled around until she got her hands in front of her. She wasn't sure how to get the zip ties off - they were really thick. She checked her boot, coming up empty. She checked the other boot and still couldn't find a knife.

 _Damn._

She was almost positive that they found every weapon on her while she was unconscious. She didn't have any ideas, so she tried using her teeth to break the zip ties. No dice. They were too freaking thick, and too tight. The were cutting off circulation in her hands. Trubel groaned.

"Did you hear that?" she heard someone ask from outside the door.

"Yeah, I think so," said another voice.

The door started to open.

 _Crap!_

Before she knew it, the room had four men in it. They all looked at her with a combination of hatred and amusement.

"That took her long enough," one of them said.

"I thought she'd wake up sooner," another said.

At least they didn't call her "it."

"Yeah, guys, I thought Grimms were supposed to be tougher than this," agreed the third man.

She kept her mouth shut. That was usually a good strategy, but it only seemed to interest the men even more.

The fourth one spoke up. "What's the matter Sleeping Beauty? Don't you talk?"

"I think she is still having a hard time. Remember, her friend died right in front of her a few hours ago." The first was laughing.

"I wish we had been the ones to kill him," the third said.

Trubel wasn't sure how much longer she could play the quiet game. She was shaking with anger, breathing heavily, and clenching her teeth.

The second man walked up to her. "Don't get worked up." He grabbed her wrists and pulled her off the floor. He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. His head was rested on her shoulder when he whispered, "You'll join your friend soon enough."

This guy was going to have to die before someone took her out.

"Screw you," she said quietly which, oddly enough, made it more threatening.

The man holding onto her just laughed in her ear. Then, he held out his hand. One of the other guys threw a rag to him. "I think you need to settle down a bit," he whispered. He yelled out to the others, "What do you guys think?"

The guys just started laughing. The guy holding onto her put the rag over her face and waited for her to collapse.

She didn't.

Instead, she used her hands, still tied up, to pull his arm away from her man had to readjust. He put one arm around her torso and arms, the other moved the rag toward her face again. That was a bad idea.

Trubel bit him.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" he yelled and moved his hand away to look at it. "It's bleeding."

The guys started laughing. One of them said, "Good job, Will. Looks like Josie was right."

"Shut up!" Will yelled. "You wanna try, Al?" He threw the rag to him.

Will now had both of his arms wrapped tightly around the girl.

 _Tight enough_ , she thought.

Al walked towards the Grimm.

Trubel lifted her tied up feet off of the ground while Will held her up, holding tight around her torso. She kicked Al in the groin; he groaned and fell to the ground, dropping the rag.

"Idiot," one of the men said.

"Shut up, Robert!" Al whimpered from the ground.

"You gonna let them embarrass you like this, Blake?"

"This is ridiculous," Blake said. He picked up the rag from the floor and got in Trubel's face.

"Light's out, honey," he said.

Trubel head butted him in the face, and his nose started bleeding almost immediately.

Blake woged, ripped Trubel away from Will, and threw her on the ground. She landed flat on her back and started trying to sit up. Blake sat behind her and held the rag over her face. Trubel eventually slipped back into unconsciousness.

Bonaparte had finished showing Renard the compound. Renard had no idea the facility was so huge. It included areas for training people, an infirmary, living quarters, offices and research centers, conference rooms, interrogation rooms, weapon and supply rooms, holding cells, permanent cells, solitary confinement, and a lot more.

"What do you think?" Bonaparte asked.

"Its impressive. You have a lot of resources at your disposal." Renard answered.

"Mi recurso es su recurso," Bonaparte laughed. "Do you think you will like it here?"

"I know I will. I will be proud to work here," Renard replied. "It will be an honor, Bonaparte."

"I'm glad." Bonaparte said approvingly. "Now, run home to your future wife, and, of course, your two children. It has been quite a long day."

Renard raised his eyebrows in confusion. "You aren't coming?"

"No, my day isn't over yet. I have some business to take care of. Have a nice evening." Bonaparte spotted his right hand man, or one of them, at least. "Vincent!"

Vincent walked over to Renard and Bonaparte. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Did you find Blake?" Bonaparte asked.

"No, sir, Josie did. She gave them your message, sir." Vincent replied.

"Fantastic. Do me a favor and show Mayor Renard out," Bonaparte requested.

Vincent responded, "My pleasure, sir," before telling Renard, "Come with me, please, sir."

Renard and Bonaparte exchanged one last smile before Renard was led away.

Bonaparte started walking towards the holding cell wing of the compound, but he ran into Josephine first.

"Hello, my dear," he said taking Josie's hand. "I heard you told Blake what I wanted him to do."

"I did, sir," she said.

"Did you take care of my... _other_ request?"

"I did, sir. I got all of the information out of him."

"You're sure?" Bonaparte asked.

"He was being honest. I'm confident that we have all that we need."

"Beautiful. Thank you."

"What do you want to do with him?" Josie asked.

"We have everything we need. Get rid of him."

Josie was curious. "Do you have any preference, sir?"

Bonaparte laughed, "None at all. Just make sure you clean up after yourself."

Josie woged into a Balam. "Can do, sir." She walked away excitedly.

"That's my girl," Bonaparte said, continuing his walk towards the holding cells.

Al, Will, and Blake were sitting on the ground with their various injuries outside of Trubel's cell. Robert was standing, thinking about how stupid they all were. He couldn't have done a better job, however. People like Robert are all talk.

"Is she awake?" Bonaparte asked.

"We haven't heard anything for a while," Blake said, standing up. The others followed his lead. "She should be awake soon, sir."

"I'll be in the big interrogation room. You know where it is. Bring her there when she wakes up," Bonaparte commanded.

"Alright, sir. We can do that." Al started looking around nervously. "But I think it might be easier if we bring her there now and wait for her to wake up."

"I don't care if it's easier," Bonaparte said, his expression cold.

"Yes, sir," Will cut in.

"No restraints," Bonaparte answered. "I want her to give me everything she has. It will be fun. She needs to know that, even with her full strength, she has no chance against me. They become more obedient that way."

Robert swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

They were all various degrees of sick. People who waged wars against humanity usually were.

Trubel started waking up again. It was easier for her to remember where she was this time. All of the guys were waiting in the room for her.

"Here we go," Al said anxiously.

Trubel tried to sit up. Blake grabbed her arm to help her.

He sat in front of her and tried not to look nervous. He realized Trubel couldn't really move a lot while she was sitting.

"Wake up," Blake commanded. "And stop looking at me like a damn murderess." Blake got up and looked over at Robert. "Get her up. It's time to go talk to Bonaparte."

"Why do I have to-?" Robert started to protest.

"Shut up!" Blake demanded.

Robert helped pick the girl up. Blake pulled out a butterfly knife and flicked it around in his fingers. The knife was Trubel's. Blake stepped closer to her. "Don't even think about playing any games with me."

Trubel didn't answer him. She just kept glaring at him like a "damn murderess."

Blake slowly brought the blade closer to Trubel's hand, and she struggled against Robert's grip.

"The more you move, the worse this is going to be," Blake warned. Robert and Blake worked together to hold Trubel's hand's still.

"Hold still," Blake said. With one swift movement, he cut off the first zip tie. Then, he cut off the one around her ankles.

She was free. Kind of.

Blake looked at her cautiously. "Do not make this difficult, or I swear to God I'll-"

She was already moving. She stomped on Robert's foot and slammed her elbow into his side. He let go. She tackled Blake. He landed flat on his back like Trubel had done a few hours before. She was on top of him, and punched him in the face twice before Al and Will were able to get her off. She spun around and grabbed Will in a choke hold. Al hit her, but Trubel's grip didn't loosen. Instead, she used her free arm to punch Al in the face. He would have a black eye for sure.

Blake got off the ground and Robert recovered. Al looked like he was crying but still rallied to help the other three guys. They pried Trubel off of Will, and he collapsed on the ground gasping for air. Eventually, he recovered, too, and the four men dragged Trubel off to the big interrogation room.

When they finally got to the door, Blake laughed and said to the young Grimm, "Oh, man, you are going to _pay_ for this!" He was excited.

The guard shot a wary look at Trubel and opened the door for the mass of struggling bodies.

"Theresa Rubel," Bonaparte greeted from the other end of the room. "It is about time that we have a civilized conversation, don't you think?"

Bonaparte looked at the men holding onto Theresa. "That's enough, gents. I can take it from here."

They let go of Theresa. Robert and Will backed away from her, Al was frozen in place, and Blake was holding his ground with a smug expression.

Blake was probably her least favorite. She moved a few steps into position and swept his legs out from under him with a single kick. The others were afraid to do anything to stop her, so they just watched as Theresa held tightly onto Blake's throat while he kicked beneath her.

It was going well for her until she started feeling an intense pain again. Bonaparte was staring at her, no doubt, trying to get her to stop choking out Blake. She grunted in pain, but kept her grip tight as she stared down at Blake murderously. Bonaparte intensified his stare, and Theresa was really starting to feel it. She let the pain make her grip tighter. Bonaparte was tired of waiting, so he intensified his stare even more. Theresa gasped in pain and collapsed next to the coughing Blake. Bonaparte let Theresa up and told his men to stand in the back of the room.

"Theresa, I want you and I to work together," he started. Theresa, got up off the ground and turned toward the men at the back of the room. "Don't even think about it," Bonaparte said. Theresa winced and turned toward him. "Was that so hard?" he asked in a friendly tone. He continued, "You belong in our world, Theresa." The men in the back made repulsed expressions, but Bonaparte kept talking. "You are strong, powerful, and you deserve a world where you can be who you are without persecution. Like the rest of us. That's all we want." He spoke sincerely, but Trubel saw right through him. He wanted power over all humans because he wanted the the world to be a Wesen's world. He thought humans would only be useful dead, or as slaves. She had a feeling that he had the same intentions for her.

"You could belong here. We will give you a home and a purpose and treat you better than anyone at HW ever did. We can treat you better than Nick ever did. You just have to be willing to work with us."

Trubel took a few steps towards Bonaparte. "Don't even say his name you lying sack of-" Theresa was on her knees within a fraction of a second, gasping against Bonaparte's excruciating stare.

"Don't be a fool, Theresa!" Bonaparte lost his cool, " _Nick_ ," (Bonaparte sneered his name), "is dead. Give him up, Theresa. He's not coming to save you this time." Bonaparte took a few steps closer to Theresa so that they were only a few feet apart. "Those alliances are only going to get you into trouble."

Trubel was still on the ground because Bonaparte didn't let her go this time. She felt like he was ripping her in half, but it didn't stop her.

"The first moment I get the chance, I'm going to freaking kill you," she snarled.

Bonaparte took a step back and let her up.

"Then do it," he challenged.

Trubel sprung up and sprinted towards Bonaparte a few steps and was even able to get close enough to grab a hold of his suit jacket before Bonaparte put her on the ground again.

She was writhing on the floor in pain, and the men in the corner watched with huge grins across their faces.

It was taking every ounce of self control for Trubel not to scream in pain.

"You need to learn when to quit, Theresa. You need to know that there are rules! You do not disrespect me." Bonaparte intensified his glare and Trubel finally yelled out in pain. "You do not tell me what to do." Trubel stifled her scream this time, and that annoyed Bonaparte to no end.

He decided he would test her.

"You do what I say. Without question. You want the pain to stop? Ask me." Bonaparte intensified his stare again, and Theresa looked like she was suffocating from the effort to keep quiet.

"I am giving you an order, Theresa!" Bonaparte shouted. "Ask me to stop!"

Trubel opened her mouth without sound. Bonaparte let up because he wanted her to be able to ask him the question.

"Go ahead," Bonaparte commanded.

Theresa was still gasping for air. She choked out, "I am asking you..." she was panting incredibly hard.

"Yes?" Bonaparte asked, triumphant.

"I am asking you to..." Trubel paused. "To go jump off a bridge, you murderer."

He glared at her with his excruciating stare. She was clearly in pain again, but she didn't make a sound. Her eyes started bleeding like Meisner's had before Bonaparte and Renard killed him.

She panted, "I'm going to kill you."

Bonaparte had it with her. He nodded at Blake and Blake walked over to her and kicked her in the face. She was unconscious before she could even register the pain of the blow.

"We'll try again tomorrow," he announced. "Put her away and do whatever you want. I want her broken, do you understand me?!" Bonaparte yelled and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Vincent was walking with Renard to the garage.

"How do you like the place?" he asked.

"It doesn't disappoint. You must be proud to be a part of such an organized and powerful group."

Vincent hesitated. "In some ways."

"Some? What do you mean by that?" Renard questioned.

"We have a habit of going overboard," Vincent said. Renard thought about Bonaparte's needless killing of Meisner and looked at Vincent. "What? You haven't noticed?" Vincent asked.

"I believe that certain measures must be taken in order to win this war. Bonaparte knows that, and that is why he's in charge." Renard said.

Vincent nodded. "Bonaparte told me that you knew Theresa before the world ended."

"I did. She's a force to be reckoned with, I can tell you that. Don't trust her," Renard warned shamelessly.

"You didn't ever get close to her? You weren't friends?"

Renard said, "No," but Vincent believed that he was being dishonest.

"You never helped her? She never helped you?" Vincent prodded.

"I was trying to help Nick one time, and I ended up getting shot. Theresa called an ambulance and killed the man that almost killed me. He was a Hundjager and she cut off his head with a machete."

"That seems like something that would be hard to forget," Vincent said, calling Renard out for his deception. "Does Bonaparte know?"

Renard replied honestly. "No, he doesn't, and I would prefer that he doesn't find out. Tell him what you want to, but what happened between Theresa and I doesn't make a difference to me."

"I can see that," Vincent said, unable to hide his disgust completely. "I'm sure it makes a difference to her."

"I'm sure it does," Renard said. "If she's smart, she won't do anything about it."

"I guess we will see," Vincent stated. "Here we are." He opened the car door for Renard. "Bonaparte said that the keys are in the glovebox."

"Thank you," Renard said. He got in the car and Vincent shut the door behind him. Renard drove off after getting the keys and nodding at Vincent. Vincent headed back towards the inner compound.

Vincent made his way slowly down the hallway, going nowhere in particular. He heard screaming coming from one of the interrogation rooms. That wasn't rare.

He walked around and entered the adjacent door. It was the type of room that had a window where he could see everything that happened in the interrogation room. However, in the interrogation room itself, it just looked like a massive mirror. Vincent didn't usually like what he saw when he investigated a sound that he heard, and this time was no different. He looked through the window and saw the girl named Theresa on the ground. Bonaparte was yelling at her, telling her to ask him to stop. She didn't listen to him.

That was strange. Vincent was intrigued by her.

He watched the rest of the violence unfold, and left when it was over.

He had an idea.

"She seems to defy you when you and the other's try to intimidate her. She's stubborn. Anyone can see that." Vincent paused, "I think we should try going at this a different way." Vincent was hoping that Bonaparte would listen to him. After all, he and Josie were about the only people that could make suggestions that Bonaparte would listen to.

"And what's your brilliant idea?" Bonaparte asked, still annoyed that he hadn't gotten the Grimm to submit to him.

"Kill her with kindness?" Vincent suggested.

"You want us to be _kind_ to her? After everything she's done?" Bonaparte demanded angrily.

What is it that she did again? Oh, right. She was a Grimm. That clearly was something that couldn't be forgiven. Not to mention her acts of self defense. To Bonaparte, it was all downright irritating.

"Please, sir, just hear me out," Vincent begged and continued, "Do you think that her friend Nick ever treated her the way we do? This girl is not motivated by pain or threats like normal people. You know that. When we try to force her into anything, she lashes out. I think it is worth experimenting with, and she doesn't even have to know you're involved, if you want to give this a go," Vincent explained.

"Vincent, these people here are not trained to be kind, they are trained to get results. And, that is what I want. Results. But, I am still giving you a week with her. You make me curious."

"Thank you, sir. These kinds of relationships take time, however. I think it will be a pleasant surprise to see the effects of two weeks on the Grimm."

"Alright," Bonaparte said. "Two weeks, but that is all that you get. Do not ask me again."

"Yes, sir," Vincent responded pleasantly and got up from the chair.

"And, one more thing," Bonaparte yelled after Vincent who already started walking away. Vincent turned towards him and Bonaparte continued his thought. "Use Blake and the others. I know that they aren't the example of kind that you're looking for, but if they make a mistake... Well, I wouldn't care if something happened to them."

That could be a problem. "Yes, sir," Vincent answered with a sigh.

Trubel had been awake for a while. She was sitting on the cement floor of a room that probably couldn't fit more than two people. She figured if she spread across the floor, she could touch every wall of the whole thing.

But she couldn't spread out.

Blake knew that nothing was off limits because she had severely pissed off Bonaparte and Bonaparte wanted revenge. So, Blake decided that it would be fun to tie her wrists to her ankles while she was unconscious. He said it was fun, at least. Trubel was pretty sure he just did it to restrict her. He was afraid of her, and she knew it.

Trubel was sitting on the ground in the kind of position that made it look like she was hugging her knees. She didn't really have a choice.

Needless to say, Trubel was pissed and wanted Blake dead. Maybe not as much as she wanted Bonaparte to die, but she really wanted him dead.

She heard talking outside. It was Blake and someone's voice that she didn't recognize.

"I don't care what you want," she heard the unknown voice yell. "Just do it!"

The door opened and Blake walked in the cell. He was mad about something, but cheered up when he looked at Theresa and his handiwork. "You're being transferred," he said and started walking closer.

Trubel couldn't move, so she just watched him as he kneeled down close to her. She might be able to headbutt him in the nose again if he got close enough... Maybe she could break his nose this time.

Vincent stood in the doorway; he was the man that Trubel didn't know. "Hurry up," he said.

"Damn, Vincent, what do you think I'm doing?" Blake asked.

"Being a moron. Move." Vincent said impatiently. Blake got up off the floor and Vincent took his place.

"This is stupid," Blake said. "I don't know why you would want to help-"

"Be quiet and wait the hell outside," Vincent commanded. Blake rolled his eyes, left the room, and shut the door. Vincent took one look at the restrained Grimm. "What the hell?" he asked himself irritated. He would never have enough patience for Blake, Blake's pack, and their cruelty.

Vincent and Theresa sat, watching each other. They both didn't know what to think of the other.

Vincent pulled out a rag and a bottle. He got the rag moist with the substance in the container and started moving it towards Trubel's face. Chloroform, again?

She couldn't freaking move with what Blake did do her. Damn it!

She tried to move her head back, away from Vincent.

"Woah!" Vincent said and pulled his hand back towards him. That was a stronger reaction than what he expected. "Hey, relax." He could see Trubel was freaking out. He looked at the rag and put the pieces together. He knew what she thought it was. "God, I hate them," he muttered to himself angrily.

Trubel was glaring at him, breathing hard, stressed out.

"It's okay," he tried to soothe. Trubel didn't buy it.

He held up the rag. "It's just water," he said. He explained, "your face is covered in blood."

"Let's see." He pulled a knife out of his pocket and cut one of the ties - the one around her wrists.

Trubel sat up quickly. She was eager to get out of the position that she had been in for at least a few hours. She was stiff.

Vincent put the wet rag in her newly freed hands.

Trubel stared at it for a minute and then looked up to see Vincent's expression. He was smiling kindly and actually looked sincere. She started wiping the blood off of her face while Vincent sawed through the zip ties on her ankles.

When they both finished their task, they stared at each other again. "Please," Vincent said. "Please do not attack me or any of the guys out there."

Trubel looked at Vincent with narrowed eyes.

"That isn't an order. I'm asking you for help," he said. "I know you hate they guys out there. I don't even have to imagine why. I know," he scooted towards her on the floor slightly. "They are going to take you to a new room. And the trip over there is going to suck, but I think you could handle it if you really wanted to," Vincent assured.

"Why should I trust you?" she asked Vincent skeptically.

"I can't prove to you that you should," Vincent said. He stood up and held out his hand to help Trubel up, "But a lot of good things start with a little bit of trust."

She didn't take his hand, but she did stand up and follow him out the door.

They were ambushed by Blake and the rest of the guys - something that wasn't supposed to happen. They pushed Vincent out of the way and slammed Trubel into a wall.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Vincent yelled stepping closer. Will and Al held him back.

Blake grabbed Trubel's arm and twisted it behind her. It was the kind of hold where, if she struggled, her arm would break for sure.

Vincent yelled at him. "Blake, stop!"

"Screw you!" Blake said and started laughing. He whispered to the crowd, "That's our little inside joke." Trubel slammed her head back and _did_ break Blake's nose this time.

"Bitch!" Blake shouted.

"Theresa, don't!" Vincent yelled and tried to step toward her. Will and Al held him back again.

She glanced up at Vincent who looked worried. She didn't make another move to hurt anyone. Vincent was slightly encouraged. "It's alright," he said. "Let's just go."

There were about a thousand things that Trubel could do to put Blake on the ground, whimpering in pain, but she didn't do them. She just stood against the wall, waiting for someone to make a move. Robert, Al, and Will were dumbfounded by the fact that the Grimm wasn't acting the way she normally would.

She looked at Vincent with an expression that crept toward distrust. Vincent had to do something.

He woged into a Mauvais Dentes, and Trubel flinched. They were typically really, really, really bad news.

"Enough!" Vincent snaraled, and his voice reverberated through the halls. He pushed past Al, Will, and Robert to get closer to Blake. Blake jumped but didn't let go of Trubel. He grabbed her wrists. "Don't move," he said and zip tied them together behind her. Vincent thought it was a miracle that Trubel let him. "I am not taking any chances with you," Blake said. He and the other guys started leading her down the hall to her new room.

Vincent followed behind to make sure everything went smoothly. He didn't woge back to human form until they arrived at their destination.

"Get in." Blake shoved her through the doorway of a room that was pitch black.

"You can go now," Vincent said in his human form as he followed Theresa into the dark room.

Blake scoffed and the guys made a disgusted expression.

Robert, Will, and Al left, but Blake stood in the same spot and looked on at the Grimm and Mauvais Dentes with amusement.

"Go away," Vincent said, stepping in the line of sight between Theresa and Blake.

"Fine." Blake walked away, down the hall after the rest of the guys.

Vincent left the door propped open. He walked further into the room and flicked on the lights.

Trubel looked around at the room. It had a bed, a desk, a chair, a dresser, and even a bathroom that had a door to separate itself from the rest of the room. Trubel raised her eyebrows in astonishment. The room must have been twice the size of the first holding cell that she was in.

Vincent walked behind Trubel and asked her not to move while he cut yet another zip tie. Blake had a serious problem.

Trubel almost felt bad for thinking about disarming Vincent and making a run for it. Luckily, for everyone, she didn't act on her thoughts.

"I'll let you familiarize yourself," Vincent said. He smiled at Trubel and walked out of the room. He left the door open.

Vincent turned one last time to face her. "You can close the door if you want, but you should know that it can only be opened from the outside once it's shut. I'll send Max by in an hour or so."

Then, Vincent was gone.

Trubel had no idea what to do with herself. This whole exchange had been very confusing. She walked up to the doorway and saw two guards right outside. They backed away and put their hands on the guns in their holsters. Trubel rolled her eyes and slammed the door shut between her and them. She walked over to her new bed. It was soft and definitely an improvement from sleeping on the floor.

She wasn't tired, so she just sat on the bed and wondered who Max was. It was the least painful direction for her thoughts to go in.

The nervous Mauzhertz was scurrying down the hall trying not to spill the contents of the tray he was carrying. He rushed down until he saw a room with two armed guards standing in front of it. These guys were mean like Blake and the gang, but Vincent told the mousey man that they were on their best behavior for the time being.

"Hey, guys," the Mauzhertz greeted.

"What do you want?" one of the guards asked.

"I think you're supposed to give this to the Grimm." He held out the tray and the guards examined the contents.

"Really?" the other guard asked. "Because we think _you're_ supposed give her the food." The two guards grinned at each other.

"Uhhhh, I don't think-"

The guards opened the door and pushed the mouse, and his tray of food, inside.

The door shut behind him.

He was absolutely terrified, and shaking so hard that Trubel could tell he was shaking from across the room. She got off of the bed quickly and glared at the man in her room. His back was against the door, he was facing her, and Trubel watched him reach his hand behind him to try to open the door.

"The door doesn't open from the inside," Trubel told him venomously.

The man laughed nervously, "Oh." He attempted a pathetic, little smile.

He walked slowly towards Trubel's desk, sliding against the wall and never turning his back to her.

They walked around each other in circles like to wolves sizing each other up before a fight.

The mouse set the tray down on the desk and realized that the Grimm was on the opposite side of the room by the door - by the only exit.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Nothing, nothing," he started rambling. It reminded her of Bud. "I just, I, I, I, uh." He looked around nervously. "I just had to give you this." He gestured to the tray, but Trubel didn't look. She kept her eyes locked on the scared man.

"I think maybe I should go," he started to shuffle his way towards the door... and the Grimm.

Trubel took a few steps toward him. "I don't think so."

The man gulped.

"If I ate that," she nodded in the direction of the tray. "Is it going to do something to me?"

"What?" the man asked.

Trubel grabbed the man and dragged him to the nearest wall. She put her hand on his throat, but didn't apply pressure. "Is it going to knock me out, make me sick, _kill me_?" she asked.

The man woged into a Mauzhertz.

Trubel realized that he wasn't pretending to be afraid. He was truly scared and Trubel felt bad for pushing him.

"No, no, it shouldn't. Please don't kill me! Please!" He started gasping for breath.

"It shouldn't?" Trubel asked, her tone still sharp.

"I don't know. Vincent just told me to bring it to you. That's all I know," the mouse man promised.

"Vincent?" Trubel was surprised. "What's your name?"

The mouse said, "Max" weakly.

"Max." Trubel repeated and her eyes widened.

Oops.

She let the mouse go, and he woged back to a human as he scurried to the other end of the room.

"Max, I'm sorry," Trubel said, trying to soften her tone. "I didn't know it was you. Vincent told me you were coming... I didn't know..." She trailed off. "It's okay, Max. I don't want to hurt you, and I'm not going to. Okay?"

Max nodded.

"I swear, I'm not as dangerous as you think," Trubel promised him. "Some of my best friends are wesen."

"What kinds?" Max took an involuntary step towards her.

She smiled at him. "Eisbiber, Blutbad, Fuchsbau... I hit it off with a Heftigauroch, once ..."

"You are friends with wesen. I didn't know Grimms did that." Max was clearly confused.

"They usually don't. It's just me and... just me. Nick used to be like that." Trubel looked down at the ground in an attempt to hide her emotions.

"Vincent told me. I'm sorry about what happened to him," Max said.

Trubel couldn't look at Max. "I'm sorry, too." A silent tear rolled down her face.

The door opened and Max disappeared outside.

Trubel didn't have any witnesses, so she let herself feel for the first time since she'd been taken by Black Claw. She sat on the floor where she was standing - she didn't have the strength to make it to her bed - and started sobbing.

Nick was dead.

Bonaparte was on his way to Trubel's new room. He had gotten a good night's sleep and was ready to deal with the Grimm again. He just wanted to talk. He would wait for Vincent's plan to fail before he did more than that.

Vincent saw Bonaparte and ran up to him.

"I don't think seeing you right now is a good idea, sir. You said you'd give me two weeks," Vincent informed.

"I know. I just want to talk to her." Bonaparte smiled to himself. He might accidentally mention Burkhardt while he was at it.

Vincent could tell what he was thinking. "I don't think we should risk any setbacks, sir. We had some success last night. Let me tell you about it," Vincent offered.

Bonaparte thought it over and looked at the door with the two guards standing in front of it.

"She's asleep," Vincent said. "It was a rough night for her."

"Tell me what happened," Bonaparte asked and the two of them walked down the hall together.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a week. Trubel hadn't left her room since arriving there and, strangely, her biggest problem was finding something to do. Three times a day, Max would stop by with trays full of food, good food. The food was actually way better than the slop she was given at HW. She felt bad for comparing the two lives that she'd had.

She would talk to Max, but not for too long because she didn't want to get him in trouble. She would talk to Vincent, too, whenever he would stop by. She thought it was funny that both Vincent and Max knocked on her door before coming in. They actually treated her like a human being which she was grateful for. But, she was worried about how long that would last. She wanted to trust them, but it was hard. It was so damn hard.

She hadn't seen Blake, or Al, or Will, or Robert. She assumed that Vincent told them to keep their distance which she was grateful for.

But, she didn't know why anyone listened to Vincent. Most people just followed his orders. He must have ranked high, and she had no idea how. He was nice, or at least seemed that way to her, but nice wasn't the kind of trait that got people to the top of Black Claw. Bonaparte taught her that much.

Maybe he was influential because he was a Mauvais Dentes?

People could be scared of him, or even worse, Vincent was playing everyone. It was a Mauvais Dentes thing to play games and manipulate people. Maybe that's what Vincent was doing? Playing her. Manipulating her.

That possibility scared the hell out of Trubel, because Vincent was all she had.

She knew she trusted him more than she wanted to admit, and that was dangerous.

Vincent was sitting in a mess hall of sorts talking to Max.

"How's it going with you and Theresa?" he asked, sounding like a doctor methodically working through a list of questions as though her weren't invested in the answer.

"Okay, I think. She hates it here, though," Max replied.

"I know. Must captives do." Vincent thought about Theresa's rank. She was a captive, that was all. Bonaparte might just be fooling himself thinking that she could be more than that. "Have there been any more incidents?" Again, Vincent sounded unconcerned.

"Not since the first time when she was going to choke me to death," Max said.

"Good. That's good. I hope we're making progress, but it's hard to tell." Vincent was really hoping his experiment would work. Maybe Bonaparte would promote him. Hopefully, Theresa was beginning to trust him. That's how he got people to do what he wanted. Trust.

Trust was a key ingredient in obedience.

"She talks about Burkhardt a lot," Max said.

"She's really bent out of shape because of what happened to him," Vincent said.

"She cries about it sometimes," Max admitted.

"He's dead and she watched it happen. I hope we don't have to use it against her in the future. All it would take to really drive her crazy is telling her that his death was her fault," Vincent mused.

Josephine sat down next to Vincent. Everyone in the room shot nervous glances in her direction. She was the most evil, formidable person in the whole compound - except for maybe Bonaparte. "If we told her that, it might get her to quit blaming Bonaparte for what happened," she said.

"Smart girl," Vincent approved with a wide smile.

"I think that idea deserves a kiss," Josie said. Josephine leaned in to kiss Vincent.

Bonaparte was losing patience. He should have just given Vincent a week.

But, Vincent was right. Relationships took time to build and Bonaparte had seen him work his magic before. He was a master at manipulation, it was true. He had everyone in the palm of his hands.

One more week. Just one more week.

"Max, I need your help," Vincent said. "Let's talk back here."

The two of them moved to a secluded corner where no one would see or hear them.

"With what?" Max asked.

"You remember that conversation we had about trust?" Vincent asked. "Well, it's time to step up our game. Theresa needs to trust us completely, and soon."

"How?" Max questioned nervously.

"We are going to HW," Vincent said.

"Why? They were completely wiped out in the attack. There's nothing left but bodies and useless junk."

"Not all the junk is useless," Vincent said smugly. It was clear to Max that he was up to something.

"When are we going?" Max asked.

"Now. We are running out of time," Vincent asserted. Max headed towards the garage while Vincent worked out a few details to his plan.

Theresa was doing pushups on the floor when she heard a knock. Vincent came in, and she was happy to see him. He smiled at her weakly and grew more serious the further he got into the room. Eventually he said, "We need to talk."

Trubel got up from the floor and looked at Vincent with a worried expression. "About what?" she asked cautiously.

"I have to go somewhere today," Vincent could see that she was about to ask, so he added, "Where I'm going is not important." Theresa looked at him with concern, but not suspicion like she should be. "It won't be dangerous and I should be back tonight. Max is coming with me, too," Vincent paused to let the information sink in. "But until then, someone else is going to be bringing you what you need, and I'm sure that they won't be nice," he warned. "I just thought I would give you a heads up," Vincent added.

"Thank you," Theresa said. And she meant it, too. She was grateful for everything he did for her and slowly forgot to be suspicious of him as time wore on.

Vincent nodded and walked away.

Blake was mad and excited. He had been given the job of taking care of the Grimm while Vincent and Max were away. He thought about it and saw the potential that his current task had. He led the pack of guys that were behind him to Theresa's room. Robert was the one with the tray of food. They were supposed to be delivering Theresa's breakfast.

Blake fist bumped one of the guards' while the other opened the door for him and his possy.

"Thanks," he said and winked at the guard who opened the door for him. They walked in, and Theresa was surprised that it really took all four of them to bring one tray. They must have plans.

"Hey, beautiful," Blake greeted and Theresa made a face of disgust. Blake laughed. "You know you look a whole hell of a lot better without blood all over your face."

"Yeah, I don't pull off the look like you do," Theresa answered bitterly.

Blake thought about his broken nose and clenched his fists. Will started laughing at him and Blake told him that he would look good with a broken nose, too.

Meanwhile, in the back of the pack, Robert and Al had gone to work eating all of Theresa's food.

"Whatever," Blake said. "How are the wrists? Has circulation come back to your hands yet?"

He was trying to push her buttons. "Yep," she answered cheerfully. "I look forward to feeling the impact of my fist on your face."

"It's come back!" Blake announced, clarifying for the group while looking around himself. He took a step towards the Grimm. "Maybe we ought to do something about that."

"I dare you to try, coward!" Theresa yelled in his face.

Blake glared at her.

Robert spoke up, "What do you want me to do with this, man?" He held up an empty tray.

"Just throw it on the ground. It's not like you're gonna spill anything," Blake laughed.

Robert threw the metal tray at Theresa who caught it midair. She took a step forward and was wielding it like she was going to hit someone.

"I dare you, coward," Blake taunted.

Theresa threw the tray at the ground so hard that it crumbled into a crooked sheet of metal. She was starting to lose it.

Everyone one laughed at Theresa while she stared daggers and the smiling Blake.

"Wow! I'm impressed, honey," Blake said. "You still haven't tried to kill me, yet." He looked around. "I was hoping you'd break easier. Oh, well," he said, pretending to feel defeated. "I guess I'll be the one to start this off," he started laughing.

He grabbed her shoulders, and she tried to shake him off. He threw her against the wall and started choking her.

"It's time to finish what we started," he said. "No one is going to help you this time. Not the boys, not Max, not Vincent... not Burkhardt."

That was it. She couldn't let him do this. She was about to punch him, but he threw her on the ground and had the guys hold her down while he choked her.

He waited for Theresa to start to lose consciousness before calling off his dogs and letting her go.

"See you at lunch," Blake said and was let out by the guards who had been watching the whole thing.

Theresa pulled herself off the ground after taking a few minutes to catch her breath. She walked over to the bathroom clumsily to examine the damage. She was dizzy and hardly able to hold herself up in front of the mirror. She looked in the reflection and saw that her neck was already starting to bruise.

"You got the boxes?" Vincent asked.

"Yeah, we're good to go," Max responded.

They had just raided Theresa's room at HW. They had boxes of her stuff in the trunk of one of Black Claw's many black vans.

"This might make her mad," Max thought out loud. "She probably thinks that we shouldn't be going to HW in the first place, let alone going through her stuff."

"I hope not. We didn't go through anything. We just filled boxes." Vincent was considering how Theresa would respond.

"I hope that this is the last straw. I hope doing this for her is what makes her trust us wholeheartedly. With any luck, this will remove any shred of doubt that she has about me," Vincent said. "About us," he corrected.

They got in the car and started driving back towards the compound. Vincent thought for a moment.

"I hope everything went smoothly while we were gone."

It was dinnertime. Blake and his crew hadn't come back for lunch like he said they would. Theresa was happy about it, but was suspicious. Wouldn't he seize every opportunity he could to bother her while Vincent and Max were gone?

She heard a knock at the door which was a promising sign. Blake and the boys didn't knock.

Vincent walked in with a box full of stuff, and Max followed after him with another box. They set down their cargo on the desk and turned to look at Theresa.

"We're back!" Vincent announced cheerfully. He looked at Theresa and saw her neck. "What the hell happened?" he asked, dead serious.

Blake burst through the door and started yelling.

"Your bitch attacked me! That's what happened!" Blake woged into a Blutbad and growled at Theresa.

Vincent and Max looked at her. Blake used their distraction as an opportunity to wink at Theresa who was glaring at him. He woged back into human form.

"What?" Vincent asked Theresa in disbelief.

"You think I did this all by myself?" Blake asked. Everyone looked at him. He was covered in bruises and scratches and blood.

"No," Theresa said. "I don't." She looked at Blake with narrowed eyes. "Did your friends beat you up?"

"Don't lie, honey," Blake said tauntingly. "You're embarrassing yourself!"

Theresa looked at Vincent. "I didn't do anything," she swore. She looked at Blake. "Look at me! Do you want to tell Vincent how this happened?" She gestured to her neck with bruises of handprints all over it.

One of the guards opened the door.

Blake yelled, "Thank, God!" He looked at the guards. "Help me out here."

The guards' faces were stone cold when they replied. "We saw the whole thing," they began. "She attacked him and he choked her in self defense."

"What?!" Theresa yelled. She looked at Blake and growled, "You are a _real_ piece of work!"

"Theresa, enough!" Vincent yelled. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. "Thank you Blake... and team. I want to have a little discussion with Theresa. Some privacy, please?"

"Yes, sir," answered the guards and Blake simultaneously., only Blake said it mockingly. They left the room.

Blake walked down the hallway. Al, Will, and Robert emerged from a corner, and the guards joined the group.

"Did it work?" Will asked.

"Hell yeah!" answered Blake.

"It was great," said one of the guards.

A round of high fives began and continued until Josephine walked out from the shadows.

"How's it going, guys?" she asked happily.

"Great!" Blake gave Josie a high five. "Hey, thanks for doing my makeup. The fake blood and bruises really sold the story."

"Happy to help," she grinned. "Where's Vinny?"

"Having a _conversation_ with Theresa." Al said.

The group erupted with laughter.

"What happened?" Vincent asked.

"You're asking me like it matters what I tell you," Theresa answered bitterly.

"I don't believe for a second that you lost your cool for no reason. I want to hear what really happened," requested Vincent.

"You want the real story? I didn't lose my cool at all!" She was yelling now. "Blake tried to piss me off to give him an excuse, and when that didn't work he and his _buddies_ decided to jump me."

"I figured," Vincent said solemnly. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"Me, too," Max said.

Trubel got in Vincent's face. "I don't need you here, alright?! I can take care of myself, and I'm not going to ask you - or anyone else - for permission. Next time I see them, they're dead!"

Max and Vincent exchanged a concerned look. "Theresa, you aren't thinking clearly," Max said.

"Maybe it's from the lack of oxygen! Get out!" Max flinched and hid behind Vincent.

"But-" Max started to say.

"Max, it's okay. Give her some space," Vincent interrupted. They started walking towards the door. "We'll see you tomorrow. Max and I grabbed some stuff for you," he pointed at the boxes and left with Max.

Theresa wasn't going to look through the boxes, but her curiosity got the best of her. She walked over to the boxes and started digging through them. They were full of her clothes for the most part, but there were also books. The Grimm books that she kept in her room at HW. She kept digging, but stopped when she found a journal. It was one of the most important things that she had ever owned.

 _Trubel walked into HW headquarters for probably the third or fourth time ever. A few visits ago, she met Meisner, and now he was asking to meet her at the HW compound._

 _"Ms. Rubel, welcome back," said one of the guards. They looked pretty scary, but were actually really cool once you got to know them._

 _"Thanks. Have you seen Meisner?" she asked._

 _"Yeah, he's in his room. It's where you talked to him last time."_

 _"I know where it is. Thanks!" Trubel said._

 _The guard opened the door for her. "Good luck, kid!"_

 _Trubel nodded and made her way to Meisner's room._

 _She knocked on the door, and Meisner opened it._

 _"Hello, Trubel. Come with me," he said._

 _They walked a few doors down and entered a room with a large bed, a TV, a bunch of empty shelves, and a weapon's rack._

 _"Welcome to your new room," he said._

 _"This is mine?" Trubel walked over to the half full weapon's rack and gazed at it. "Woah."_

 _Meisner cracked a small smile. "Those are for you."_

 _"What's this for?" she asked._

 _Meisner sighed. "You can live here now - or at least stay here when you're not on an assignment."_

 _"Oh." Trubel knew what she had signed up for and knew she wasn't allowed to see Nick. But over the past few months, her definition of home changed, and this didn't look like one. But, it was okay. She had her own life now, and she didn't want to put her friends in danger. It would take some getting used to, but she could do it._

 _"It's safer for you here, too." Meisner walked to the only shelf that wasn't empty and picked up a small journal. He handed it out to Trubel. She opened it and flipped through the pages; it was blank._

 _Meisner's expression was hard and stern, like always, but there was a hint of some emotion in his eyes. Was it sadness?_

 _"This job isn't easy. I'm not saying that because you're young, I'm saying it because it's true. You are going to have a tough time adjusting. I don't care who you are, it's going to be tough." Meisner sighed. "You are going to see some things, hear some things, and make some decisions that you are going to think about and question for the rest of your life. You are going to screw up and never forgive yourself." Trubel was looking down at the blank journal in her hands. "Chavez told me that you were going to have a rough time never seeing Burkhardt again," Meisner continued. "Just try to remember that it's for his safety." He watched Trubel's pained expression. "Remember that you are here for a reason. We need you here. You are going to save people, you are going to make a difference. The world needs you to make the right decisions and be strong. Emotions can get in the way of what we are trying to do here. No matter what you think, they are going to affect you, and keeping them inside can destroy you. I know you want to be brave, and it's good for others to see you that way, but whatever we are, we are all humans. It's what we are fighting for." Meisner pointed to the journal. "If there are any thoughts weighing on you, just write them down. That's what I do." Meisner attempted an encouraging smile and walked back to his room. Trubel shut her new bedroom door, hunted down a pen, and immediately started writing._

 _"The world needs you to make the right decisions... Whatever we are, we are all humans. It's what we are fighting for."_

Theresa read Meisner's quote on the first page of the journal.

She shut the book; it felt like he had died all over again.


	5. Chapter 5

Apparently, Bonaparte believed Blake's story or was pretending he did. Vincent told him it was bogus, but Bonaparte didn't change his decision. Vincent and Max weren't allowed to see Theresa until her "killing her with kindness" time was up, and the guards would bring the young Grimm everything that she needed until then. Bonaparte said it was a "just in case" decision.

The guards were no good, but at least they didn't try to incite violence.

Theresa thought Max and Vincent had taken everything that she said to heart. She thought they had given up on her. She tried to ask the guards if Vincent or Max said anything, but the guards refused to talk to her. Apparently, they had also lost loved ones at the hands of Grimms, just like Blake, Al, Robert, and Will. It made them all bitter.

The end of the two weeks had come, and it was time to come up with a verdict. To do this, Bonaparte wanted to have a little chat with Theresa to see if she was in any way reformed and changed by her experiences. Bonaparte told Vincent that he would be waiting in an interrogation room with a table in it. Bonaparte wanted his discussion with Theresa to be civilized. The request was ridiculous.

It was time to have a conversation with the Grimm, it was time at long last. Bonaparte told Vincent that he could use some of his own men as long as the two guards and Blake were there to "protect" everyone. Vincent couldn't help but feel that Bonaparte was setting Theresa up for failure. He took two of his own men, Edgar and Jasper, to help him.

Vincent knocked on Theresa's door and opened it. Blake popped up behind Vincent and said, "Your time is up."

Vincent gestured for Theresa to come to him, and she did.

They stepped outside and slowly walked towards the interrogation room until Blake grabbed Theresa's arm and started to pull her in the direction of the interrogation room.

Theresa involuntarily reacted. She couldn't help it.

Blake surprised her, so she punched him in the face and pulled her arm away.

"Ow!" Blake yelled and Vincent, who was leading the way, turned around with horror.

All hell broke loose. Trubel backed away from Blake and turned around to find a gun pointed at her head. It was one of the guards. The other guard was being blocked by Edgar, while Vincent and Jasper were keeping Blake from causing more problems.

"Hey! Hey! Put it down!" Vincent yelled at the guard with the gun.

"No, she's a threat." the guard said. Vincent was about to respond when Blake almost broke free from him and Jasper.

"Blake," Vincent hissed. "Stop, _now,_ " he commanded scathingly.

"Did you not see what just happened?" Blake said.

"She was doing great until you pissed her off!" Vincent yelled. He did not have the patience for Blake.

"I pissed her off?!" he repeated defensively.

"This is your fault!" Vincent growled in Blake's face. "Get out of here," he commanded. Blake did what he asked, and was gone without another complaint.

Theresa was death glaring at the man pointing the gun at her. Vincent put his hand on her shoulder to calm her down, but it didn't work. Theresa shook his hand off.

"You can leave, too," Vincent told the guard fighting with Edgar.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't question me," he said bitterly. "I want both of you to get out of here."

The one guard lowered his gun, and the other lifted his hands in surrender. She was backing away from the group, getting some distance between her and the others as fast as possible.

The guards left and Vincent looked at Edgar.

"Go with them," Vincent said. "Jasper, I need you to find Blake. Make sure he's not planning anything and report back to me." They both told Vincent, "Yes, sir," and hurried away to finish their tasks. It was just Theresa and Vincent in the hallway.

"We need to go," he told her. He walked over to Theresa and motioned for her to follow him. She did.

"I know you're upset with me, but I want to help you. You can trust me, Theresa. I promise."

Theresa ignored him. It was usually untrustworthy people that said, "You can trust me."

"This whole thing was my idea, okay?" he said. "I saw what happened the first time you met with Bonaparte, and it looked like it hurt. Not to mention that nothing he did had any effect on you at all. I was the one that told him that we should try being nice to you because I didn't want to see you get hurt." Vincent sounded like he was being truthful, but he was trying to convince her that he was a good guy. Again, not something the real good people did. Plus, he was supposed to be a master of manipulation... "But in order to get him to keep treating you like a real, living, human being, you have to show him the results that he wants to see. Okay?" Vincent stopped walking and so did Theresa. "If you lose it, you could lose everything. Please."

Vincent put his hand on Theresa's shoulder and kept it there when she squirmed beneath it. "And for the love of God, please stop acting like every bit of physical contact that you have is going to kill you. It will look better to Bonaparte if you stop freaking out every time someone touches you."

Trubel wouldn't promise him anything.

They started walking again and made it to the interrogation room soon after. Vincent held the door open for Theresa and she walked in. Everything she did from that point on would affect everything that happened afterward.

Renard and Adalind's relationship was still tense for obvious reasons. Adalind wouldn't talk to Renard after finding out that he had gotten very close to killing Nick. She locked herself in her room and only agreed to come out for Kelly's and Diana's sake. She didn't know about what happened to Trubel.

Something about the way Renard was acting was making her suspicious, however. She was fairly certain that he was keeping secrets from her which was validated by a conversation that Renard had with someone on the phone.

"You need me to come in? When? Now, right now? Why? Oh. Of course. It should be interesting. I'll be there soon. The same to you. Goodbye." Renard hung up the phone.

"Who was that?" Adalind asked. Renard was surprised to find her standing behind him.

"It was work. I need to go into the office," Renard said.

Adalind didn't buy it. "The precinct? Your mayor's office?"

"Something like that," Renard said.

"Why?" Adalind questioned.

 _Because I need to watch your friend Theresa get broken down by Bonaparte after proving to him that she can't be tamed_ , he thought.

"It's not important," he said and left quickly before Adalind could ask him more questions.

Renard took his company car - the black Black Claw sedan - over to the compound. Josie showed him what she called, "the window room," where he could watch the interrogation through the one-sided mirror. He saw Theresa walk in the door and follow Vincent to the table where Bonaparte sat.

"Have a seat, my dear," he said, and Theresa sat down wordlessly.

"I'm surprised you made it," Bonaparte said.

"Under her own power, I would like to mention," Vincent said, walking over to Bonaparte's side of the table.

"No problems, then?" he asked Theresa.

Vincent answered for her. "Just one, and it was Blake's fault."

"Let her answer, Vincent. You may go outside," Bonaparte told him.

"I'm fine here," Vincent said. "I'll be quiet."

"I wasn't asking you. Please, go wait outside."

"Yes, sir." Vincent shot Theresa a concerned look and walked out.

"You fought Blake?" Bonaparte asked.

"I punched him," Theresa answered. "Once."

"Why?"

Theresa hesitated. "He surprised me. It was an accident."

"Hmm," Bonaparte mused. "Have you thought about our previous conversation?"

"Not really," Theresa answered venomously.

"My, you are quite a stubborn creature," Bonaparte laughed.

"What do you want?" Theresa questioned.

"Well, let's get right down to business, then. This civil chatter tends to bore me, too. I want you, Theresa. You could be a great addition to our family. Your skills, your knowledge, your ability to stay strong under pressure are characteristics that I'm looking for."

"You should look somewhere else," she replied.

"Don't be difficult. You started off so well, today. You haven't even tried to kill me like you promised me you would two weeks ago. I'm impressed. Let's not let this get out of hand like the last time. Theresa, I want you to prove to me that what I'm doing for you right now is working. I need validation that you and I can build a trusting and loyal relationship."

"How do you expect me to prove that to you?" she demanded.

"I have a question for you, and I want you to answer me honestly. Where is the Grimm ancestry book?"

"The what?" Theresa asked.

"You know what. Do not play games with me!" Bonaparte yelled.

Theresa stayed calm. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you are being dishonest with me," Bonaparte hissed.

"I don't give a damn about what you think," Theresa said.

"I know that Burkhardt had the book that I am looking for, and I know that he told you about it," Bonaparte began.

Trubel flinched at the mentioning of Nick. "He didn't tell me anything about a book," Theresa assured vehemently, "But if he had an important book, he probably destroyed it!"

"I'm certain he told you," Bonaparte said.

Theresa stood up abruptly and leaned forward into Bonaparte's face. "Nick didn't have the chance to tell me about it because you killed him, you son of a bitch!"

"I did the world a favor," Bonaparte said, smiling.

"Let _me_ do the world a favor!" Trubel threw herself across the table. Vincent heard the yelling from outside and rushed in to grab Theresa before she did something stupid. He got there just in time to keep her from tackling Bonaparte.

Vincent wrapped his arms around Theresa who was struggling to get him off.

She yelled to Bonaparte, "You are never going to find that stupid book! Even if I knew where it was, I wouldn't ever tell you."

Theresa was still struggling when Bonaparte stood up. "Vincent," Bonaparte said, "I'm afraid that your experiment didn't work out the way we had planned."

"Bonaparte," Vincent tried to say clearly as he held the struggling Grimm, "This is a mistake. You saw results! You know you did! Just give it more time," he begged.

"No," he said decisively. "I am going to try the standard course of action."

Theresa could feel Vincent shudder at the word "standard." This wasn't going to be good.

"Theresa," Bonaparte began. "I suggest you start behaving yourself and I hope you think long and hard about the question I asked you. It would be unfortunate for you if I decided that you were useless to me. I can promise you that, if you keep this up, the rest of your short, short life will be excruciating."

"I'm not afraid of you!" she yelled at Bonaparte.

Bonaparte laughed and said, "You should be."

"Get her out of here, Vincent. I don't want to look at her. Don't take her back to her room. I want her in solitary. No food, no water, no sleep. I imagine our next conversation will be very interesting." Bonaparte was determined to break her.

Renard watched as Theresa tried to fight Vincent, the only person she had gotten close to trusting. Theresa was kicking her feet and yelling as Vincent dragged her out into the hall. Renard could hear her screaming, "Get the hell off of me, Vincent," and "Let me go!"

Renard walked into the hallway and watched Vincent hand Theresa off to Blake, Al, Will, Robert, and the two guards. It took every single one of them to get Theresa to solitary confinement.

Renard saw her as she was dragged away, and she saw him, too. The sight of Renard added enough fuel to her fire for her to step a few feet towards Renard before the men were able to drag her back and out of sight. Vincent looked in the direction of Theresa's glare and found Renard standing behind him.

"Bonaparte told me about your plan. It didn't work out well, I'm guessing," Renard said. "No promotion?"

"No promotion," Vincent said. He looked in the direction where Theresa had disappeared. "She's probably wishing she hadn't saved your life."

Renard smiled. "Probably."

"Get off!"

They didn't.

"Let go of me!"

They didn't.

At this point, Theresa yelled to keep up the fight. She had no expectation of winning.

"Christ, would you shut up?!" Will yelled.

"Why are you doing this?" Theresa asked hopelessly.

Blake and the boys threw her into a solitary confinement cell. None of them had a good reason for their actions.

Theresa had three days to think about her situation. She hadn't seen anyone during that time. She hadn't had any food, or water, either. She was aware, however, that there were people just outside the door. They worked in teams, individuals switching shifts with each other so that someone was constantly outside the door making some kind of intolerable, loud sound at regular intervals to keep her from sleeping.

Given her previous life experiences, she knew what crazy felt like and she was definitely getting there with the help of the solitary confinement cell. Theresa decided that it was really more of a glorified black box. It was small, pitch black, didn't have a bed, and that was about it.

Theresa was sitting on the floor, again. She felt like that was all she did nowadays.

Suddenly, the door opened. It was Blake. Why was it always Blake?

"Are you happy to see me?" he asked.

Theresa was feeling dizzy and confused. She just started laughing which freaked out Blake.

"Yeah, all right..." he said uncomfortably. "Time to come out." He reached down and picked Theresa up off of the floor. She didn't fight him, and Blake didn't know what to make of it. She sort of stumbled around, so Blake decided to carry her. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. He felt the Grimm resist slightly when he did that, but she was too weak to keep it going.

He carried her to one of the interrogation rooms with just a chair in it. The intention was to tie her down, but she didn't seem like much of a threat; Blake let it slide.

Bonaparte walked in. "How is our little troublemaker?" he asked.

Theresa was slumped down in her chair and didn't look up at Bonaparte.  
"I don't know. We might have overdone it..." Blake said.

Bonaparte walked up to Theresa and lifted her chin up to get a good look at her. Her eyes were open, but didn't focus on his face or anything in particular. "Hmmm," Bonaparte mused. "I don't think that this is going to work. I need her awake. She has to decide to listen to me," Bonaparte said. He looked at the Grimm and sighed. "Put her back in the box."

Edgar was standing in the room. He was chosen to be the guard for this event. Most of the others were busy. He decided to speak up. "Bonaparte, she's just a kid." He looked pleadingly at Bonaparte. "Maybe you should let her rest for a few days. You could kill her."

"I'm not sure I would mind much if I did. These Grimms seem to take more effort than they're worth."

Bonaparte had a habit of wandering when he spoke. He walked back over to Theresa.

"Do you know where the book is now?" he asked the Grimm.

"I know it's not with you," Theresa said, slurring her words and slightly smiling defiantly.

"Back in the box," he commanded Blake. Blake shrugged and carried Theresa away, unrestrained.

Everything was going according to plan. Trubel let Blake throw her over his shoulder and her arms hung down swinging back and forth - until they didn't. Trubel saw her butterfly knife sticking out of Blake's pocket and snatched it while Blake walked. She put it in her sleeve until she could find a better place for it. He set her down in the cell without realizing the knife was gone.

Max was coming down the hall and saw Blake putting her back. He had a tray of food with him, a huge container of water, and a pillow.

"Blake, wait!" Max yelled. "She needs this."

"Oh, I don't think she does," Blake disagreed.

"Come on! She's starving to death," Max begged.

Blake said, "I don't care how she dies as long as it happens. Starving to death? I'll take it."

"Bonaparte doesn't want her to die, yet," Max said.

"Bonaparte never said anything like that to me," Blake corrected. "He wanted her back in the box, and that's what I did. If he tells me to feed her, I'll do it. Until then, you can go." Blake was laughing quietly to himself.

Max tried to push past Blake to set down the tray of food and other items by Theresa. Blake smacked everything out of Max's hands. "Did you not hear what I just told you? Run along, mousy, before someone gets hurt."

"Move, Blake," Max commanded.

"What was that? It sounded like you just told me to do something?" Blake challenged.

"I did," Max said, standing up for himself for the first time in his life.

"Oh. Okay," Blake said.

He shoved Max onto the ground. Max tried to get up, so Blake leaned down and punched him in the face.

Trubel tried to get to her feet. She wasn't faking how weak she was when she was with Blake and Bonaparte.

Blake kicked Max twice and was about to stomp on his face. Then, he felt it. A piercing pain that seemed to cut mercilessly and coldly through him.

Trubel was standing behind him and stabbed him, quite literally, in the back. Blake spun around and backhanded her.

She was unconscious again.

Vincent knew that Bonaparte was giving Theresa three days to "think about her situation." Her time should have been up, so Vincent made his way to solitary confinement to see what the next move was.

He found Theresa... and Max... and Blake.

He didn't say anything. He walked right up to Blake, woged, and grabbed him by the throat. He lifted Blake off the ground and his sharp claws started to dig into Blake's skin. He threw Blake across the room. Blake landed face down on the ground and Vincent noticed the knife sticking out of Blake's back.

Somehow, Max was still conscious. He was coughing on on the floor. Edgar appeared in the hallway - he was on his way back from the interrogation rooms.

"Edgar! I need your help!" Vincent yelled and woged back into human form. Edgar ran over and checked Theresa's pulse.

"She's alive," he said.

"Help me get them to the infirmary," Vincent ordered. He picked up Max.

Edgar picked up Theresa. "We'll come back for Blake?" he asked.

Vincent really didn't want to. "I guess."

And they walked off to the infirmary.


End file.
